


The Pretender Drabbles

by Pouncer



Category: The Pretender
Genre: Drabble Collection, Other, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-14
Updated: 2009-12-14
Packaged: 2017-10-04 10:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pouncer/pseuds/Pouncer





	The Pretender Drabbles

#### For Plum, _The long way home._ (Jared/Miss Parker)

"Did you ever think we'd get here?" Jarod asks one day, one ordinary day.

She curls up a corner of her mouth as she considers. She doesn't get enough chances to sneer anymore, and bemoans the absence of Broots when temper takes her.

"No," she says with a decisive snap.

"Did you ever want to get here?" There's real curiosity in his voice, relentless survivor of Centre horrors.

She remembers the days, weeks, months, years of chases and investigations and frustration, searching for a will-of-the-wisp.

His eyes are soft as he watches her. She pulls him closer, answering without words.

#### For Hetre Z, _"Hungarian Love Song" by The Jazz Butcher: but you can break the state monopoly / and you can have all your meals for free / just call me / and we can start. _ (Jared/Miss Parker)

Miss Parker pushed Jared back in his chair, leaned close and then closer still.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything?" The passion wasn't reflected on her face.

"What should I say?" Jared twisted his wrists inside their shackles.

She traced the line of his chin, then brushed her thumb over the corner of his left eye.

"That looks like it hurts," she murmured.

He hadn't gone down easily. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?" She straddled his legs, not touching, yet.

He could feel hints of her warmth. He wanted more. "Yes."

She lowered herself down and kissed him, snarling.  


####  For Threewalls, Miss Parker with Jarod

The Centre isn't like any other office, so why the _hell_ are they throwing an obligatory costume ball to celebrate Halloween?

At least Miss Parker makes a fashionable Lucrezia Borgia.

A wall of scarlet catches her attention – the man is dressed as a Cardinal, and her smile turns predatory.

Maybe he'll help her elect Daddy as Pope.

She snags two goblets of merlot from a passing waiter.

"Drink?" she asks.

His beard obscures his face, but she recognizes the line of his nose.

"What are you _doing_ here?" she whispers.

"I heard confession is good for the soul," Jarod says.  


#### For sociofemme. Jarod has to deal with crazy musicians.

  
[Panic at the Disco are real. This story is fiction.] 

"But _why_ does a $25 ticket actually cost $40?" Jarod couldn't understand it.

"Service charges," Spencer said, and rolled his eyes. Jarod saw his fingers tapping against the tabletop, smooth jaw working in time with a silent rhythm.

So much about the music business was strange, but nothing more than the control exerted by ticket sellers. The Centre would envy their price hikes.

It wasn't fair. The kids wandered around looking underfed. Ryan's wrists would probably snap under pressure.

Jarod would have to see what he could do.

It was easier to boost Panic to superstardom than to vanquish Ticketmaster.  


#### For debc: Unbound. Jarod/Parker, 315 words.

The curve of Jarod's mouth provoked Parker, made her shove him back into the chair, trying to wipe the smirk from his lips.

"What?" she demanded, her hand tightening into a fist. She would punch him, even though his arms were bound. She knew him better than to believe he was helpless, even now.

"It's so good to see you again," he said, his voice lilting upwards on the verb.

"Really." She would have snarled, but it'd waste effort. Sydney and Broots were still at the hotel, attempting to trace the steps that led Jarod here, but she'd leapfrogged ahead, determined this once to anticipate him.

"You're breaking conditioning," Jarod replied, and now his voice dipped down. She might have called it seductive, if she were the type to fantasize. "Disregarding protocol in favor of your instincts."

Parker snorted, and wished she had a glass of single malt Scotch to throw back. She'd break the crystal after, fling it against the wall.

"You know what the Centre's done to you," Jarod continued. She stalked closer, considered how best to shut him up. "What they did to your mother," and that went too far.

Her palm slapped against Jarod's mouth. "Do _not_ talk about my mother."

The next thing she knew, his fingers wrapped around her wrists, and his kiss clouded her senses.

She blinked, and he smiled at her. "I'd rather do something much more enjoyable."

His thumb traced against her pulse, and she shivered. She sank into his lap, reclaimed her hands, and scratched her nails down his scalp.

The Centre could wait. Her need to claim him couldn't.

Jarod's hips pulsed upward. She ground down against the bulge of his cock, and decided to consider herself off the clock until her minions found them. She could enjoy herself for once, and think of business later.

What the Centre didn't know couldn't hurt her.  


#### For zeldaophelia: Identification. Jarod/Parker, 157 words.

Sydney considered their history for a long time before drawing any conclusions. Almost-siblings, nearly friends, adversaries who knew each other better than anyone else – nothing about Jarod and Miss Parker was simple.

Unless you saw them together in a quiet moment, all too rare. No pressure from the Centre, nowhere else to go. The storm raged outside; they were trapped. Jarod and Parker curved into each other like it was the most natural thing in the world to seek mutual comfort and shelter.

Sydney thought they'd forgotten he was there. Jarod's arm laid over Parker's shoulders, her thumb tucked into his waistband. Their heads were close, exchanging words Sydney couldn't hear.

He could guess, though. He would wager that only Jarod and Parker could truly understand what was between them. He wished he could set them free, but the path he'd chosen so long ago demanded otherwise.

At least for a while, they had time to share.  


#### For Leoff, Five secrets that only Broots knows about The Centre

  
1\. The location of the perfect napping couch, hidden away behind a locked door and private as can be. Broots has been known to disappear for half an hour to catch a brief snooze. Miss Parker always berates him when he returns, but he placates her with some insider tidbit he ferreted out before his break and begins the search again.

2\. Where to go to find ice for parties. Not that there are many parties, but it's the principle of the thing.

3\. The stairwell that leads up to a rooftop terrace garden. Broots thinks it was established for a former director, one who fell from favor. Once a routine is established in the Centre, absence of a mere person won't alter it – the garden is still carefully maintained, with tulips and daffodils blooming in spring, summer petunias and fall chrysanthemums, but Broots has never seen anybody else when he sits and soaks up the sun.

4\. Mr. Parker has a tendency to fuck his secretaries, who then get transferred to places like Peoria. Broots wouldn't want that job.

5\. Mr. Raines' oxygen is supplied by a medical company with really poor computer security. Broots has thought about tweaking Raines' monthly order more than once. Thought about it, and then sat back in his chair to stare at the unchanged screen.

#### For the Great Elf Challenge

  
"Jared! Stop or I'll shoot! I mean it this time!"

Jared reluctantly turned to face his pursuer. "Miss Parker . . ."

"What kind of game are you playing now? Sending me packages with my mother's brooch, and her wedding gown."

"Haven't you ever wondered why you've never met any of her relatives? I found out what your father is trying to hide!"

"Daddy wouldn't hide anything from me."

"Yes he would! He hid this from everyone, even the Centre."

Parker's phone trilled. She pulled it out and snarled, "What?!"

Broots voice echoed from the phone. "Miss Parker? We can't trace the origin of the brooch you were sent. The closest Sydney and I have been able to come is to relics of an ancient people from Europe known as the Elphesdische. Very little is known about them."

Parker hesitated, then turned to Jared. "Who are the Elphesdische? What do you know about my mother?"

"She was an elf, Parker. Captured from her home forest by your father on an early mission for the Centre. She wanted to take you there with her, but your father got wind of her plans and . . ."

"My God. You really have cracked, haven't you, Jared. My mother the elf! Get a grip on reality."


End file.
